


You Give Me Something to Talk About

by AliciasClarke (fyeahgila)



Category: The Rolling Stones
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahgila/pseuds/AliciasClarke
Summary: Keith's playing at an Irish bar with his band and Mick's there to talk about a new project. Then Keith accidentally spills his drink on him and things evolve from there...





	You Give Me Something to Talk About

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
> I know I got uni stuff to work on and at least one other story to continue (A Trip Down Memory Lane: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247240/chapters/37984667) but this just came to my mind and didn't let me go anymore, so I had to get it out of my system and I hope you enjoy reading it!  
> Story title is a song line taken from St. Patrick by Pvris.

The Irish pub in Islington was well-crowded that Thursday evening and this night it was actually a lot of fun for Keith to play there. They’d seen worse crowds before definitely, and way fewer people as well. Their set mostly consisted of self-written rock and some blues covers and Keith was really enjoying playing the guitar that evening, at least here there wasn’t anyone booing at them, yet. On the contrary, everyone seemed to be in a good mood, at least from what he could judge up from the small stage in the corner of the pub. 

After finishing a cover by Howlin’ Wolf, their three-man band took a break and Keith put down his guitar, then jumped off the stage to go over to the bar and get a pint. His bandmate, singer, and good friend, Johnny, was already there but didn’t regard him since he already was engulfed in a conversation-turned-flirt with some blonde woman. Keith grinned at that sight while waiting to make his order. There really were a lot of people around that evening, probably having an after-work pint, or two. 

“Ey, mate, can you order one for me too, I’ll just go to the loo real quick!”, Harry, their drummer, called over to him and Keith just showed him a thumbs up in return. 

So, Keith finally ordered two pints of Guinness and as he was waiting for the beer to be drawn, some snobby guy in an expensive looking suit showed up next to him, ordering three glasses of high-priced whiskey.  
“Here you go!”, the waitress said and pushed the two pints over the counter to Keith.  
“Ta”, he replied with a wink, wanting to take the glasses but since it was so crowded, someone pushed him a little from behind and he spilled some of the liquor. Obviously directly onto that snobby guy’s burgundy shirt. 

“Can’t you watch out?!”, the man complained, looking at him rather annoyed. He was probably one of these city boys working at London stock exchange and Keith despised them, because they always thought they were better than anyone else, just for pushing around some huge amounts of money. But if he wasn’t such an obvious snot, Keith thought to himself, he’d actually be quite handsome. 

“I’m sorry, mate…I was pushed, okay?”, Keith returned, putting the pints back down on the counter to raise his hands in an appeasing gesture. He really didn’t want any trouble, especially since he guessed that he could knock that guy out with just one well-placed punch. But he didn’t want to risk it since they hadn’t finished their set yet and therefore also hadn’t been paid. And they really needed that money, because they hadn't that many other shows planned yet for the upcoming weeks.

“Yeah, whatever…”, the snobby guy meant, standing there a little stranded, looking for something to clean his shirt up with. 

“Here, take that”, Keith said, offering him a napkin he’d pulled from a pile on the bar. The other man looked at him mildly irritated out of his light blue eyes, but eventually he took the napkin. 

“Thanks”, he nodded at him. 

“Sorry again”, Keith mentioned with a smile and to his surprise the snobby-looking guy actually returned it. He then took his pints and finally made his way back over to his bandmates to eventually finish their gig. 

About thirty minutes later, they were done for that evening and started to pack together their gear. Keith with only his two guitars and an amplifier and Johnny, being their singer, obviously didn’t have so much to take care of as Harry with his drums, so they brought their stuff out to Harry’s van, before helping him with his kit. 

“Guys, I’m off, Becky’s waiting for me at home”, Harry announced as they’d stashed everything to the back of his van, before they said their goodbyes and he drove off. 

“You care for another pint, man?”, Keith asked Johnny, but he only shook his head. 

“That girl I met earlier is waiting for me”, he said with a smirk and Keith laughed at that. Typically, Johnny. He was always off with some other bird after their shows. Even when they didn’t go as smoothly as tonight, he somehow still managed to pick someone up. Must be his front-man charisma, probably. 

“Sure, have fun then”, Keith grinned at his friend, before deciding that he’d get himself another drink and maybe look around a little for someone nice to chat to. He wasn’t like Johnny, who was just bringing another girl home every other night. If he couldn’t at least have the one or other nice conversation with someone and hang out with them, getting to know them a little more, before picking them up, he’d rather go home alone. 

Just as he walked up to the bar, scanning the people there, he noticed that snobby-guy was sitting there by himself, now without his grey suit jacket and only in that burgundy shirt, with one sleeve lazily rolled up, staring into his almost empty glass. He seemed a little depressed and Keith was internally rolling his eyes. What could a guy like that possible be upset about, losing money while gambling around with it at the stock market? 

“You here for me to drop another drink on you?”, Keith asked him, before he could think any further about it, although he didn’t really know why. It wasn’t meant unkindly, though, his tone was rather joking and luckily the other one caught up on that, the corners of his mouth lifting up in a barely noticeable smirk. 

“Nah, just drinking”, he simply returned, and Keith hummed in agreement. 

“What are you having?”, he asked then, sitting down on the bar stool next to him because the guy didn’t seem that bad after all. He didn’t radiate that usual aura of smugness and arrogance people like him usually possessed. He also didn’t talk like one of these people, condescending and careless. If he was a mean idiot then he would have reacted way differently to Keith's earlier comment.

“Scotch”, was the only thing he gave back and so Keith ordered one of these as well. 

“So, I hope you’re not here moping because I ruined your shirt earlier”, Keith continued joking, because it was the only thing he could come up with in that moment. He hated the fact that the other man was so attractive with his pretty features and full lips and that he just really wanted to talk to him for some reason that he couldn’t quite explain, other than he fancied his looks. 

“No, that’s fine”, the guy gave back, and he actually had a grin on his uncommonly full lips now. Keith only noticed that he’d probably been staring at him for a moment longer than would be considered appropriate as the other averted his gaze back to his drink. 

“You’re in that band”, he observed after a few quiet moments where Keith had taken a sip from his scotch. 

“Yeah, I’m the guitar player”, he meant and the other man grinned. “Yeah, I saw that.” 

“I’m Keith, by the way”, he said then with a smile. “Mick”, the guy returned, and they both clinked their glasses together in a silent toast. 

“You playing here a lot?”, Mick wanted to know next.

“It was just the second gig here. We’re playing a lot of pubs and small clubs…well, two or three times a week at best”, Keith told him. 

"Do you have your own songs to play? I recognised some covers, Muddy Waters and Howlin' Wolf, but some of the others I never heard before", Mick meant then and Keith was pleasantly surprised for more than just one reason. 

First of all, this man actually asked him questions about their music, he really seemed to be interested in it! And also he seemed to know a thing or two about Blues, which didn't happen that often, although it certainly was way more popular now, also in England, than ten, fifteen years ago. 

"Johnny, that's our singer, and I are writing some songs ourselves. I always enjoy just playing around a bit on my guitar and...you know just creating something new, sometimes random stuff comes to my mind and I need to write it down or record it in order to not forget it again", Keith told him, smiling lightly because he was so happy that Mick actually wanted to listen to what he had to say about his music.

"Yeah, I know that feeling", Mick agreed. "Happens to me too sometimes."

"You're writing too? Songs?", Keith wanted to know, even more surprised now. He'd never put it past him. 

"No, not songs...I don't know enough about music", Mick gave back, laughing a bit.

"Well, your taste in music seems to be pretty good, though", Keith interjected with a grin.

"Listening to music and actually writing it are two different things, though", Mick claimed and Keith nodded in agreement. 

"What are you writing, then?", he asked.

"Scripts for TV shows or movies. Actually earlier I was meeting some producers from the BBC to talk about a new project...", Mick started to tell but then drifted of, taking the last sip of his scotch.

"It didn't go well?", Keith guessed and Mick just shook his head looking sad. 

"Let me buy you another drink?", he offered. "For spilling that beer on you earlier", he added with a smirk. 

"It's fine, I told you", Mick said, now grinning again. "You don't have to."

"But I want to", Keith meant, grinning as well.

"Okay, then", Mick sighed, but looking rather amused. 

"What do you want?"

"Whiskey on the rocks", he replied and Keith ordered two of these.

"So...what happened, about the script?", he asked as their new drinks were placed in front of them. This question made Mick sigh once more, but he didn't look so happy this time. 

"Well, I guess...it was too progressive, too cosmopolitan. I mean, god...it's 1978 and we might be in London, we might have all these glam rock kids strutting about in their flamboyant clothes, but I guess you cannot expect the BBC to be as open-minded as an experimental theatre in New York City", Mick got into it and Keith didn't really understand much of it yet. 

"What do you mean?", he inquired because he wanted to know more. 

"Shortly put, it was a movie script about a guy who’s about to get married to a girl, but then he falls for another bloke...", he muttered, sounding disappointed.

"Oh...", Keith only said, at a loss for anything better to reply, although he probably should or Mick might think he was a jerk. 

"Please, don't tell me any crap now, I've had enough of that for one night", Mick already started, interpreting Keith's reaction in the wrong way. "I don't want to hear any more insults, just...leave me be, have your drink and go home, but please don't prove me wrong now, because I actually thought you were...", he continued until Keith disrupted him.

"I wasn't gonna do any of that", he meant. "I don't intend to insult you", Keith gave back with a little laugh. 

"You don't?", Mick sounded astonished, looking at him with wide eyes. Apparently he’d assumed a completely different reaction. 

"No...I think it's brave. It takes courage to put something like this out there. There will always be people who disagree with you, especially about things like that", Keith told him and he meant it. 

"Thanks", Mick mumbled and even blushed a bit. “I really apprecciate that, you know. It doesn't happen often that someone is that open-minded.”  
Keith didn’t really know what to reply to this, so he just took another sip from his drink. 

"What did you mean when you said...you thought I was...?", he dared to ask then.

"Oh...I just...I thought you were cool. Like...to talk to...about stuff, you know", Mick stuttered, almost sounding a little embarrassed and it made Keith smile. 

"You're also way cooler than I first thought, actually", he replied, smiling. 

"Yeah, what did you think?"

"That you're a city boy...working at stock exchange. I mean, your outfit...", Keith let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. 

"You mean I looked like a snob? Yeah, I get that a lot", Mick returned, laughing. 

"Hey lads, it's almost closing time", the bar keeper told them, before Keith could reply anything. Looking around, Keith noticed that there were barely any people left around. He hadn’t even realised that it was already getting that late. But a look at his watch told him it was shortly before 11:30pm. 

"Do you wanna go for a walk?", he asked Mick while getting up from his bar chair and he just nodded. 

"Where do you have to go?", Mick wanted to know once they left the pub and he was putting on his suit jacket again. It was the end of April so the night air was a little milder already.

"I need to change tubes anyway, we could just walk along Thames for a while?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm westbound anyway", Mick shrugged and they went about their stroll through nighttime London. 

"Thanks again for...not freaking out when I told you about the movie script", Mick said in a quiet voice as they walked along the river. Not many people were still walking around since it was a week night. Just the occasional night owl, people on their way back from the pub, some tourists exploring the city at night.

"Why would I?", Keith wanted to know, because he didn't see a reason to. 

"Well on first look you don't seem like a guy who'd...I mean you look like someone who'd punch people in the face if they as much as gazed at you the wrong way", Mick explained with a nervous chuckle. 

"What do you mean?"

"Most people tell me I'm a fag", he says as if he was talking about the weather. 

"And?”

"Nothing. I like whom I like. See...you're being cool about that. Someone else would have knocked my teeth out already", Mick joked but Keith supposed that this stuff actually bothered and hurt him. 

"I don't give a damn about who's shagging whom", Keith meant, kicking against a pebble stone at his feet. 

"And if it's about you?", Mick inquired, looking at him carefully. 

"I really like girls. But...I mean...if I fancy a nice bloke, what am I supposed to do? Punch him in the face for looking that fine?", he meant with a grin and Mick laughed at that. 

They'd reached the other side of river Thames by now, where the National Theatre was located. 

"I've been there last week", Mick said as they were just standing there by the handrail, gazing around nighttime London illuminated by its thousands of lights. 

"What did you see?", Keith wanted to know. 

"The Importance of Being Earnest.”

"I remember that", Keith laughed, leaning on the handrail letting his view wander across the river to where St. Paul's was drenched in white light.  
Mick was leaning next to him, their shoulders almost touching and Keith was feeling the heat radiating off of his body. 

"You kinda made my evening, you know", Mick admitted after a while where they'd just stood there close to each other, looking at the other river side. "When they...told me to fuck off about my script...I just wanted to have ten drinks until I couldn't remember where I was", he added. “But then you showed up, givig me something to talk about. Thanks for that, really.” 

“It's fine...it was nice meeting you”, Keith gave back, biting his lip. 

“I don't want to assume, but...at the risk of being completely wrong and embarrassing myself...”, Mick started, looking at him in the damp light of the street lamps. 

“What don't you want to assume?”, Keith asked, because Mick was so close to him and he looked so beautiful and Keith was really hoping that he was on the same track, that he was thinking the same and he was fancying him too. 

“Promise me not to punch me?”, Mick gave back and Keith laughed at this absurd reply. Why would he punch him?

“I thought we established that I wasn't one of those guys”, he said, smirking and Mick chuckled lightly, before sobering up again, looking at him, seeming a little insecure still. 

“I kinda...really like you, Keith”, he admitted, biting his lip. “I mean...I do fancy you. A lot”, he added dissolving any uncertainty that had still been left for Keith. 

He hadn't been wrong then. Neither of them had. Keith started smiling at Mick's words, letting him know that way that it was alright and he wouldn't be mad at him. Quite on the contrary. Mick visibly seemed to relax, he mirrored his smile and after some short moments where they gazed at each other almost expectantly, Keith finally leaned in even closer until their lips lightly touched. Mick's lips felt pretty soft and he tasted like the whiskey they'd drunk earlier, as Keith gently kissed him, putting a hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer. Mick kissed him back a little more demanding, placing his hands on his hips and as he licked his lips with his tongue, Keith sighed contently, opening his mouth for Mick's tongue to explore. After a while they parted again, still standing really close to each other and both breathing a bit heavier than before, staring at each other, smiling widely with reddened cheeks and Mick with messed up hair. 

Keith really wanted to ask Mick if he would like to come home with him but he restrained from it. Because as much as he wanted to shag him, things like these never ended up the way he imagined. He didn’t want him to be just another person he took home and who left him the next morning and never called him back. 

“I kinda want to take you home, you know...but not like this”, Mick whispered then and Keith grinned at that, because apparently they'd thought the same things. “I know”, he simply said, running a hand softly through Mick's messed-up hair. 

“I'd rather like to see you again”, Mick added then and Keith nodded in agreement, as Mick pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his suit, taking Keith's hand and carefully noted down his phone number on the inside of his wrist.

“Call me tomorrow?”, he asked, still holding Keith's hand in his. 

“Sure, I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Mick”, Keith replied, smiling at him as his heart beat in excitement. This seemed to be way more promising than just taking Mick home right now. 

“Yeah, me too”, Mick said, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Good night, Keith.”

“Get home safely”, he meant, wrapping him into a tight embrace, before letting go of him again and with a last wave, made his way over to the next underground station.


End file.
